


An Honest Betrayal

by crackleviolet



Category: Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Pregnancy, mc is cheating!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackleviolet/pseuds/crackleviolet
Summary: Masamune is sterile. Kojuro and MC betray him to protect him.





	An Honest Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professionalcinderella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalcinderella/gifts), [kiserusmoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiserusmoke/gifts).



In adulthood, the son of Date Masamune came to be known as a great many things. His enemies pored over strategies, eager to destroy the son of the one eyed dragon, all while his allies remarked at his gentle smiles and quick wits. He was the perfect successor to an honourable bloodline, a fact that other people only ever said many years into his lifespan, but MC knew for certain at the time of his birth.  
  
He was born in the middle of the night, while all sat silent and still and MC gripped at the hands of her midwives. As she cried out into every contraction, she searched the room for familiar faces, usually landing on the window last of all. No matter how the hours ebbed by, the moonlight outside remained exactly the same, leaving her to wonder exactly how many hours had passed by. Was the rest of the world frozen in time but for her little room?  
  
MC’s maids knew before she did that something was wrong, shooting each other second glances whenever she ran a hand over her stomach and groaned without fully realising. Her husband, she learned later, did not budge from outside. He sat beside her at her first contractions, planting gentle kisses to her forehead whenever her expression was contorted by pain. MC had seen him return from battle and fight for his life more than once, though she had never seen him so frightened nor so helpless as when she was no longer able to form coherent words and the midwives ushered him outside.  
  
As soon as she held her son in her arms, however, the agony of the previous hours faded from memory. She could not tear her eyes from his balled fists; the soft hair across his crown. She had no way to explain how she felt in that moment, but it was difficult not to think of bright futures and new beginnings.  
  
Masamune’s reaction was even more subdued than her own. He came crashing into the room the moment one of her maids poked their head around the door, only to freeze in place at the scene before him. When he moved, it was an afterthought, sinking to the floor beside her without a word.  
  
His first question was the one everyone else had been too polite to ask.  
  
“The eyes…are they….”  
  
“No.”  
  
In truth the child’s eyes had yet to take on their permanent colour, but that question had lingered at the back of his mind from the moment they put any serious thought into having children. Masamune had never gone so far as to say it, often falling into deep thought after sex and smoothing his fingers where usually he wore his eyepatch. If ever anyone was to comment on the child’s future looks, he would smile softly and only ever accept the notion that they would look very much like their mother.  
  
And, as MC guided their son into his nervous arms, she understood why he took the time to count every finger and toe. Any flaw on their newborn, any mark or oddity, would only serve to bolster the same rumours that had haunted Masamune from birth.  
  
As it was, he sat in silence for a long while, holding onto the baby with the same degree of care that one would expect when handling a vase or fragile tome. MC found that she could not help but gaze in awe at the sight of them, for he was so very big and their son so very small. MC found the rumours of the One Eyed Dragon ridiculous most days, but they bordered on laughable as she watched him fall still any time the baby so much as twitched an eyelid.  
  
“Perfect,” he said at last, smiling softly. “He has your nose.”  
  
“Mine?”  
  
“Mhmmm, look.”  
  
MC peered over, leaning her head into Masamune’s shoulder.  
  
“See?”  
  
He shot her an affectionate glance and, even though she saw no resemblance, MC nodded all the same.  
  
“Do you think he knows he sent the entire castle into a frenzy?”  
  
MC raised an eyebrow at that, for it was news to her as well. She had been in her private rooms when the first contractions began and strayed only as far as her study, so even though she had been to tea outside of her rooms only the day before, it felt as if she had been gone for several years.  
  
She cast her mind back through the fog of the last day to the tea in Masamune’s study, realisation slowly sinking in. It would be wrong for her to demand all of his attentions even in the final weeks of her pregnancy; he was the Lord and had far more of an obligation to his followers than to her. Even so, she noticed very quickly that Masamune’s meetings and paperwork grew few and far between, while Kojuro left the castle so often on one matter or another that in recent months it was unusual to see him at all.  
  
That day, as she poured tea, Masamune made two revelations. One, that Kojuro was home, having spent a fortnight meeting with one of the border clans in his lord’s place. The situation was delicate, though, and however respected Kojuro might have been, he was no true replacement for Masamune in everything.  
  
He was scheduled to meet them a few hours after they met for tea, though MC could tell he was reluctant from the way he scowled into his cup.  
  
It did not take her long to imagine the situation from there.: Masamune meeting with the leaders of the border clans, only to rush away at the news that she had gone into labour; Kojuro left behind to make sincere apologies.  
  
She touched a hand to her mouth and giggled.  
  
“Poor Kojuro.”  
  
“I’m sure he will forgive us,” said Masamune, gazing fondly into his son’s face. “Once he sees this face.”

* * *

  
  
**APPROX NINE MONTHS EARLIER**  
  
As Yahiko, MC concluded very quickly that Yonezawa was a labyrinth. At first she cursed its overwhelming scale and endless passageways that led into little more than uninhabited rooms. As the Lady of the castle, though, she found it rather useful. It was never difficult to avoid a particular person, nor to find solitude.  
  
During her time as a page, she discovered her favourite hiding place of all; an abandoned garden accessible only by slipping through a side door of an equally abandoned study. While agonising over her situation as a page, as Masamune’s lover, as a poison taster, it was comforting to slip away and sit under the stars.  
  
Of late, she found she visited rather more than usual.  
  
After marrying Masamune and taking on the title of Lady Date, many-including her mother and Yahiko-had jested that her life was to become a great deal easier. She would not have to worry about magistrates or her next meal any longer; she had servants to take care of her, a devoted husband and by extension the loyalty of a clan who commanded influence.  
  
It was an optimistic thought, however. While it was true she had finer clothes and a grander lifestyle, the notion that it was simpler stayed only at the surface level. Her clothes were fine and her maids eager, but she had far more complicated problems to match the intricacies of her position.  
  
The same problems, in fact, that sent her rushing into the abandoned garden in the middle of the night, clumsily wiping tears from her eyes.  
  
A wife of any status was expected to produce an heir. She had not been in the least bit surprised, therefore, when it came up in conversation a matter of months into their marriage. If anything, she found herself naively amused at the nervous, businesslike manner in which Masamune initially brought up the topic, using language he had almost certainly overheard from Kojuro. Having children was certainly prudent to securing the clan, though only after she blushed did he admit to genuinely wanting any.  
  
She understood his nervousness from the beginning, of course. There were already rumours about his character, both in the castle and many miles away. Whatever preconceived notions the world had of him would almost certainly follow through to his offspring and MC knew that the thought of a son or a daughter shouldering such a fate left him gloomier than ever. In the end he remained optimistic, though. No one had ever hated MC and a child would be as much hers as his.  
  
Months passed by, though, without a sign of pregnancy. MC continued to bleed as she always had, waking up to spots on her sheets that instantly dashed any hopes that this time she was with child for sure.  
  
After almost a year without a child, it was only natural that others would notice and MC accepted every medicine handed to her; every examination asked of her, all while pretending that a child was inconvenient. If ever the question came up, she merely laughed and commented that her husband was so busy of late that he had no time to raise a son. It was better for the people to believe they did not wish a child yet as opposed to the harsh reality.  
  
On this occasion, she was more upset than usual.  
  
Masamune left the day before to convene with extended members of his family and even though Kojuro had insisted on going with him, he received a firm refusal. The pair of them had only recently returned from battle, with Kojuro staying a while longer to calculate the losses and gather remaining resources. Masamune’s refusal was simple; as it concerned his family, he would take Shigezane instead, leaving Kojuro to stay in the castle unless otherwise required.  
  
MC had laughed at his disgruntled face as she said her goodbyes at the gate, whispering into her husband’s ear that he had better come home soon, for she had a feeling she would have good news for him.  
  
He had been gone only a matter of hours, though, when she began to bleed and, as a consequence of unfortunate timing, spent that particular evening with only the cobwebs for company. She could not stand the thought of Masamune returning to the same disappointment as before; the same grief that gnawed her insides.  
  
And so, for the second night in a row, she eyed her empty bed only to leave for the abandoned garden, craving silence and an unblemished sky. This time around, though, she was not alone. When she opened the hidden door, the scent of kiseru smoke lingered in the air and Kojuro sat under the stars as she had meant to. From the surprised way he turned to look at her, MC gathered the garden was one of his hiding places too.  
  
“MC?” He said, expression of contemplation quickly fading. “I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place.”  
  
“Neither did I,” she said and for a moment silence resumed. They had not planned to run into each other and, now that they had, both felt oddly exposed. Finally, Kojuro gestured for her to sit down beside him and she silently obeyed, considering how rare it was for her to be alone in his company. Kojuro was a constant presence alongside Masamune, though as an individual MC felt she hardly knew him at all.  
  
“I’ve been coming here since Masamune and Shigezane were young,” he said quietly, with a thoughtful puff of his pipe. “I thought matters were complicated even then.”  
  
It was difficult not to feel wistful as she watched the way the smoke from his pipe hit the night air and lingered for only a matter of seconds before disappearing completely. He spoke of times she had never known and would never touch, just as one day the both of them would disappear into the night like kiseru smoke, remaining alive only in stories like those.  
  
“I suppose they probably were.”  
  
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, before shooting her a sideways glance. “Tell me. The reason you’re here tonight… is it the same as mine?”  
  
MC blinked, a thousand awful scenarios flooding her senses at once.  
  
“I…”  
  
“In the interest of discretion, I have been the one organising the doctors and their potions,” he said, fixing his gaze on the stars. “Considering they have not succeeded, I have only two interpretations. That you are so very ill that there is no doctor in Japan with high enough credentials to uncover the problem….or…”  
  
He frowned at that, expression darkening. MC knew without having to ask what his second line of thought was and why he did not wish to pursue it.  
  
She too had reached that same conclusion around about the third or fourth time a doctor touched her body and repeated the same verdict as each one before: she was in excellent health and should not have any problems conceiving a child.  
  
There was only one to come to; one that became increasingly obvious the more she denied it. Perhaps the doctors were right and she truly was in excellent health. If that was true, however, then that meant the burden of infertility lay with Masamune, where such a fact was almost certainly dangerous. Masamune faced unrest and rumours at the best of times, but the knowledge that he could not sire an heir would cause problems in his own clan.  
  
At first her tears were hot and silent, shoulders shaking as she tried-and failed- to blink them away. She should have been relieved, but seeing Kojuro so concerned only made her realise exactly how conflicted her own emotions were. With a choke, she shielded her face with her hands and began to sob.  
  
“I don’t... know what to... do…” She managed to mumble, crumbling completely when Kojuro’s response was to ruffle his fingers through her hair as if she wept over a skinned knee and not the future of Yonezawa.  
  
“We’ll think of something,” he said softly, and even though he meant to soothe her, she found herself crying harder.  
  
“How? There needs to be an heir and we cannot just conjure one!”  
  
“I know. But we’ll think of something.”  
  
He sounded so convinced that she almost believed him.  
  
“There are...two possibilities.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yes,” Kojuro sighed, “though I do not like either of them.”  
  
“Tell me anyway.”  
  
The first choice was obvious and so too were Kojuro’s objections. Calling in more doctors to observe Masamune as opposed to MC had a decent chance of success, though it came a great risk. There was no guarantee that these doctors would not leak information to any of Masamune’s rivals, any one of whom would be grateful for the slightest hint of weakness. As much as Masamune loved MC and claimed her the most important person in his life, there was no denying the fact that she was merely his wife and could be replaced at any given moment.  
  
The second was slightly more obscure, though its flaws equally clear. MC would fake a pregnancy and they would raise a foundling instead. Even if everyone involved were able to keep up the deception, the fact remained that the child would be one of convenience as opposed to their own flesh and blood and their responses and affections would reflect this simple fact.  
  
Their farewells that night were awkward, polite nods and formal words as if they had done far more than talk. Deep down, though, the awkwardness did not come from their conversation or the fact that they did not know one another very well, but from the third option that neither dared to mention but both had identified.  
  
The third option was for her to lie with another man.

* * *

 

Weeks passed, each day bleeding into the next. MC slept only at brief interludes, waking up to an empty bed and conflicted heart.

She knew it was unreasonable. As a matter of fact, it bordered on depraved. It was a betrayal, plain and simple, and Masamune took any to heart. Throughout history, men had lost their lives for lesser crimes and she hated the way it lingered at the back of her mind, never tempting, though always present.

After two weeks, she pulled on a cloak and left her room; begging forgiveness from her absent beloved as she sought out out a lover in the dead of night. A man trustworthy enough to keep her secret and not in the least bit shy about shouldering his share of the blame.

That night, she laid in the arms of a man who smelled of kiseru smoke; whose cheeks flushed pinker at her reaction to his disheveled room than her eyes across his body. She had expected his touches to feel somehow dishonest, yet her body relaxed into his so easily that she cursed herself, wishing she could close off her mind every time their lips touched. It was difficult, after all, not to think of the life she might have had. A life as Kojuro’s lover and possibly even Kojuro’s wife, scolding him over his messy floor and scattered papers.

She reminded herself that he would never love her, even as she wondered how it might feel. Without meaning to, she found herself running her fingers through his hair and her nails across his back, willing it to feel indecent and sighing into his kisses instead.

That night, they filled the room with sounds of pleasure; flesh against flesh and whispers in the dark. He slammed his hips into hers far harder and faster than her husband ever had, leaving her gasping and trembling from the intensity.

When she came the first time, it was with a silent scream, muffled by her own knuckles. Kojuro’s release happened only moments later, pleasure overtaking him as he spilled inside of her. The haze of pleasure that followed left MC feeling even more emotional about her circumstances than usual. She wondered if she loved him as much as her body did.

It was to be their only night together; they had only a small window of opportunity and had to make it count. MC lost count of how many infidelities she committed in that room, the number of times she and Kojuro both moaned into their respective climaxes.

He fell asleep with his head on her chest, exhausted and barely able to move. MC knew she ought to go back to her own bed, but her arms and legs were heavy from fatigue. Instead she settled for taking in the definitions of his jawline and the fall of his hair, considering that he was handsome and she had never paid attention before. If that evening left her pregnant, would their child inherit his features?

Rationally speaking, that was the worst outcome but as she stroked her fingers through his hair, she found she could not consider it so.

* * *

 

**PRESENT DAY**

Within a matter of days, the young Lord’s eyes changed to a vibrant green. The same as his father’s, according to almost anyone who looked, never knowing how right they were. Masamune smiled brightly whenever he peered into them, stroking the child’s hair and speaking in a soft voice that even MC had not heard before.

On occasions that he couldn’t sleep and Masamune had yet to come to bed, MC would lift her son into her arms and take a walk into the abandoned garden. Most nights she was alone save for her son, who squirmed in her arms, stretching out pudgy fists and sometimes even opening his eyes to the sound of her lullaby.

Every time she sat alone in the garden, she pored over his face; his brilliant green eyes and chubby cheeks; his soft brown hair that most attributed to her incorrectly. Even when he fell asleep in her arms, she found herself remembering the way Kojuro had looked sleeping on her chest. Their son was a near perfect copy, without a hint of Masamune or herself. He was all Kojuro and, almost ironically, in that he was safe. Had she taken another man to her bed, Kojuro would almost certainly be the one to piece together her lie.

On this night in particular her son fell asleep earlier than usual, and she watched the stars instead, wondering how it was she had come to feel so lonely in a place she once escaped to for solitude.

The answer came to her with the opening of a sliding door.

“Oh...I...I did not expect to find you here,” said Kojuro, turning to dismiss himself from her company.

MC considered saying that she did not believe him, but instead smiled faintly and motioned for him to sit beside her. His body was warm against hers and she caught the scent of smoke and dust from his clothes. The same scent that lingered about his room as he ran his hands across her skin.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” She asked, picking out a particularly bright star above the nearest roof.

“I suppose that depends on what you mean. House Date is secure. We achieved our objective.”

“It was still a betrayal,” said MC, “however honest.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he stole glances at the infant in her arms. The child who one day she was certain would resemble him in every way. Finally, he reached into his pockets for his pipe, only to rethink it and run his fingers through his hair instead.

“If he brings honour to the Date clan, then it was worth it,” said Kojuro. “That’s the only expectation I would have of a son.”

He smiled into the face of her sleeping child and lowered the hand that tousled his hair, hesitantly reaching to touch the child’s crown, but retracting his fingers at the last second.

Not for the first time, MC wondered who had truly betrayed who. One thing she knew, though. No matter his circumstances, her son would be a great man; honourable, wise and gentle. He would be the sum of his parts, even if it left her empty.

In the years that followed, she was not wrong. Her son grew tall and strong, with Masamune’s soft smile and her own laughter. He was beloved by the citizens of Yonezawa, many of whom could point him out at sixty paces. In every illustration ever made and every story, one detail remained the same. The son of Date Masamune carried a kiseru pipe, handed down to him from his father’s advisor and mentor in childhood. A pipe he held affectionately, though never smoked, for the scent left his father nostalgic and his mother in tears.


End file.
